The Mirror
by PinkJinx876
Summary: It all started when Evey saw the mirror.


The mirror.

It all started when Evey saw the mirror.

She had never before seen something so grand, so beautiful. V had led her into his room to give her the book he had been reading, and it remained in his outstretched hand, waiting for her to take it, but all she could do was stare. Not in her wildest dreams would she have imagined a mirror like this, nor imagined it belonging to a man like V. The mirror was far too big for even the vainest woman, and certainly far too big for a man.

_Definitely too big for a man who probably never even looks at himself,_ she thought. She continued to stare, her eyes following down the smooth glassy surface for about 20 or 30 ft; it covered an entire wall. But Evey was not as impressed with its size as she was with its cleanliness. Not a speck of dust marred its surface, and it was so clean of smudges and imperfections that she could've sworn she wasn't looking through a mirror, but through a window, and there she was on the other side. Her eyes tricked her into believing there was nothing there, and she was just another person, staring right at herself.

"It's quite impressive, isn't it?" V asked, finally withdrawing his hand, and taking a step back as to look at the mirror fully. It was the one thing in the gallery that amazed him the most, and he was glad that Evey recognized its beauty as well. She took a step towards the mirror, noticing that it would fit well in a dressing room where 20 people could share it. But instead, it was trapped in V's room, where no one else would ever see its beauty. She suddenly felt a stab of hatred towards the lovely mirror, and wished she had never laid eyed on it. She turned quickly to V, and took the book from his hands, not even glancing at the cover.

"Thanks," she said flatly, turning and exiting his room. V looked sympathetically at the now empty door where she had stood moments ago. He understood what she was feeling; he himself had had the same feelings about the mirror.

He had seen it in a theater once when he was a child. It was the only thing that he remembered of his life before Lark hill. He had been at the theater again; had broken in through the back window and had meant to steal the curtains on the stage, but right after he had smashed through the window, and amidst the screams and screeches of the half naked chorus girls running every which way, V had laid eyes on the mirror. He didn't exactly remember ever seeing the mirror before, but a part of his brain simply knew that he _had_; and the same part of his brain simply knew that he _had_ to have it.

It wasn't easy getting the mirror to his underground home either. In fact, V had to admit that it was one of the most difficult objects he had managed to obtain. Its sheer size not only made it impossible to carry, but also extremely hard to steal. And, once he had managed to pry it from the walls, after killing the many security guards, he found himself at a loss of what to do next. He couldn't lift it himself, he knew that much, and it was too large to even fit out the door. He marveled at the thought of how they ever got it in there in the first place. He had decided that they must've built the theater around the mirror, so he decided to remove the mirror the same way, by destroying the theater.

The building came down easily enough, and he managed to get the mirror out unscratched by wrapping it in the rich velvet curtains he had planned to steal; but then he had found himself in the middle of London, surrounded by the ruins of a once grand theater, and covered in dust, in the middle of the night. V did not remember exactly how he had gotten it into the Gallery, or how he had even gotten it through the door. It had involved some tape, some rope, and around 7 extremely frightened hobos, but the trivialities were unimportant to him. He had escaped with it, and here it was, in his home. It was probably his 3rd most prized possession, and he took great pride in keeping it spotless.

But he kept it spotless for another reason as well. Every night when he took off his mask, he would look at himself in the mirror, and, with his cold eye sockets staring back at himself and his scarred face, he would assure himself that he was ugly, and would, every night, become more and more revolted with himself. True, the mirror's reflection was cold, but it was also the truth, and truth was the only thing that V trusted.

.

.

.

Evey sighed as she sat down on her bad, her head in her hands.

_Why did I act so mean to him? It's not like he meant to upset me…hell, he didn't even upset me. It was that stupid mirror. _She sighed again, picking up the book she had discarded on the side of her bed. Through the Looking Glass stared back at her. She groaned and put the book back on the floor. She had to forget about that mirror. She didn't even know why it had upset her in the first place. It was just a mirror. There were many mirrors in the gallery; in fact, there were 4 in her room.

She looked up at the mirror closest to her, and walked over to it. She looked closely at the surface. This mirror, which had once been grand to her, now looked pale and old, not glossy and new like the mirror in V's room. She looked at every mirror in the room, including the ones in the bathroom that she had just cleaned that morning. Dull. They all appeared dull, even lifeless, compared with V's trophy. V's mirror had seemed to have a rich and velvety glow surrounding it. Maybe it was the soft, dim glow of the lights, set two feet apart, right above the mirror. Or perhaps it was the velvet stage curtains draped around the edges of the mirror, which softened the light, but sharpened the image reflected. Or, just maybe, it was the fact that she wanted it for herself, as V has absolutely no use for it. He had stolen something that he has no use for, and its beauty was being squandered every day it sat rotting here with _him_.

Whatever it was, Evey hated the mirror, and she needed to do something about it.

She spent the next few days cleaning the mirrors in her room. She would spend hours on one mirror, soaking it and scrubbing it, rubbing the cloth so hard that she was afraid she'd tear through it if she scrubbed anymore, but it was useless. Even after being scrubbed for days, there was always one speck of dust, one scratch, one watermark, and it was slowly driving Evey crazy.

The next morning at breakfast, Evey couldn't concentrate. She had been unfocused for almost a week now, her mind drifting back to the mirror every time she saw something shiny, or something clean. Which, unfortunately, was almost everything in the gallery.

_If he has so many other beautiful possessions here, why does he need that mirror?_

V watched her carefully, his head tilted just slightly as he studied her face. She looked tired, and miserable. He knew that she was jealous of his mirror but he had not known that it would affect her like this. True, V had spent several days marveling at his mirror, but he had eventually gotten over his 'infatuation' with it, knowing that is was his own, and knowing that it would be there every day when he woke up. When Evey fed a spoonful of her cereal to her shirt, V knew it was time to do something.

"You seem a bit…distracted today, my dear. Is there something bothering you?" he asked, handing her a towel and watching her dry off her shirt.

She looked up at him, wondering whether to tell him or not. Should she tell him?

_What would I even say to him? 'Oh, sorry I've been a bit distracted V, I'm just jealous that you have a cleaner mirror than I do.'_ He would probably look at her like she was crazy.

"No, nothing's wrong, V. I'm just a bit tired," she said, her voice sounding weaker than she had intended it to. She immediately cleared her throat, hoping V would think it was just a cold, of a lack of sleep. He tilted his head forward, as if taking time to absorb this information. He didn't believe her; he could see the lie in her eyes. He stared at her for a few seconds, wondering how to respond.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, my dear. There is some Aspirin in the bathroom cupboard on the second shelf if you are not feeling well. You may take some if you want…after all," V said, cupping her cheek in his hand, "everything in this gallery is yours as well." She smiled; forgetting about the mirror as his thumb gently stroked her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed, and, for the first time in a few days, she relaxed. Until she remembered that she was his prisoner for a year. His _pet_.

"Thanks, V," she said dryly, opening her eyes quickly and standing up. She left the room, leaving her bowl on the table for V to clean up. His voice suddenly rang out in the hall.

"Oh- Evey, before you leave, I have something to tell you," she heard from the kitchen, aware that he was not going to speak to her face to face, "I have some….errands to run today, so I will be gone most of the day, and, if my plans take any sort of…twist…I shall be gone this evening and most of tonight as well." She called out to him in response, letting him know that she understood, and made her way to the bathroom.

She waited until she heard him stop the dishes, don his cloak and knives, and shut the front door before she entered the bathroom. She, like V, hated the idea of taking pain killers. She knew that they did nothing but mask the pain, and she never took them unless she had to, but she knew that V would be gone all day, so there was nothing to stop her from taking them. She reached into the medicine cabinet and dry swallowed some Aspirin. She looked at the back of the bottle, and saw that she was supposed to take only two. She sighed; she had just taken three.

In half an hour, Evey's small headache had gone from bad to worse. She had only taken one extra Aspirin; she didn't understand why it had heightened her headache. She was tempted to try and take another one, but she knew that that would only make her head ache worse. She lay down in the couch, falling asleep for a few hours.

When she awoke, her headache was worse. She did not know how long she had been asleep, but she knew it must've been a while. When she stood up again, her head throbbed so hard she fell off the couch. She groaned, and made her way to the bathroom, swallowing two more Aspirins. She looked up and screamed, dropping the bottle on the floor, the pills spilling out all over the ground, the bottle cracking. She was face to face with a mirror; staring at herself. Completely startled, she took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm her heart as she realized she was still alone and it was only a reflection.

She stepped forward, her foot crunching the Aspirin bottle. The neglected warning lay on the floor, 'take no more than 2 pills every 5 hours'. She ran her hand over the mirror, wiping water over her reflection. She stared at the smudge across the middle of the mirror, suddenly remembering V's mirror.

_Why was it so clean?_

She grabbed the nearest thing to her, her dark red lipstick, and found herself running towards V's room. She ran to his door, expecting to find it open, but it was closed, locked. She rammed against it, attempting to break the lock. Her head pounded but she didn't care. The door opened with a few kicks, and she ran into his room, finding the mirror staring back at her.

She screamed, dashing over to it and smearing it with her wet fingers. Her eyes blurred as she smeared the lip stick all over the mirror, the red standing out like blood. Blood. What was V doing right now? He was out killing more of those bastard Finger men, yet also out killing innocent people. Out shedding their blood. She suddenly felt a stab of hatred towards V, and realized that this was about much more than hating the mirror.

The mirror was V.

It was the only thing that had ever seen V without his mask on, and it was the only thing that would ever see that.

This mirror was V.

It was the man who had taken her and had held her prisoner here underground.

It. Was. V.

She pulled her hand back and punched the mirror as hard as she could, and instantly regretted it. She heard her knuckles crack, and heard her wrist break. Her scream could barely be heard over the cracking of the class, as it shattered- large shards falling to the floor. She brought her hand back and punched the mirror again, hearing her fingers break and smashing the mirror yet again. She started crying and her hands punched the mirror over and over again.

She wished she could punch V.

She wished she could KILL V.

He had trapped her underground. He was going to trap her here for a year. She was his prisoner, and he wasn't going to let her escape.

She put her head against the mirror and started to sob. Her hand hurt, and punching the mirror wasn't what she wanted to do anymore. Tears streamed down her face as she put her hands on the mirror, leaving bloody handprints. Without moving her hand from the mirror she ran, leaving a bloody streak along the cracked mirror. She ran until the mirror ended, leaving her in his pure white bathroom. With another mirror. Her hands ran all over it, and ran over all of the walls, smearing them with her blood.

She sat down in the middle of the floor and cried, passing out cold.

.

.

.

When V arrived back at the Shadow Gallery at 2 in the morning, he knew something was wrong the second he opened the door.

His heightened senses immediately detected blood; Evey's blood.

"EVEY?" he bellowed, throwing off his cloak and his hat, running through the gallery.

Where was the last place he had seen her? Had something happened to her? Had Sutler found his lair and killer her? He ran through the halls, and into the bathroom. The light was on, a pill bottle smashed on the floor. Crushed pills littered the floor, and the medicine cabinet was open, the contents all over the floor and in the sink. He ran from there to her room, following the scent. Her room was empty, but when he opened her door he was hit with a blast of cleaner. What was she doing that required so much cleaner? His mind suddenly clicked. _The mirror._

He ran as fast as he could, ignoring his wounded leg that a Finger man had given him earlier that night. He arrived in his room, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw. The door had been kicked open, dented and the wood chipped. His things were lying on the floor, some of his possessions were broken, and others tossed carelessly about. He laid his eyes on the mirror, and nearly choked. Large bloody handprints were all over it, and a streak of blood led down the mirror corridor. There were large parts of the mirror that were smashed in, and huge glass chunks on the floor.

He ran down the hall to find Evey, passed out on the floor, in his once white bathroom that was now covered in red.

.

.

.

When Evey awoke, the first thing she felt was pain. The second thing she felt was the silk sheets of V's bed. He was sitting next to her, stroking her hand gently. Her other hand was lying on her stomach, so heavily bandaged it didn't even resemble her hand. She closed her eyes, tears squeezing out from her shut eyelids.

V sighed. He had found her on the bathroom floor earlier that night, and had bandaged her hand, after carefully picking the glass out. His mirror lay ruined, but he didn't care. He looked over at it and sighed again. He would never find a mirror of such beauty, and he was glad of it. It had almost taken away his precious Evey. He looked at her face as she gazed dully at him.

"I want to leave," she whispered harshly.

"I know, my pet." He knew he couldn't keep her here forever, but he would try. To protect her, he told himself, though he knew that was a pathetic excuse for taking away a year of her life. He knew she would hate him. Despise him, even. He didn't care. A year with a reluctant Evey, no matter how much she detested it, was better than silence. Better than being alone.

"But you can't."

He sighed and looked one last time at the mirror, before his eyes drifted back to Evey's face, tears seeping from her eyes. He brushed them away with his fingers, kissed her ear with the porcelain lips of his mask, and left the room.

As he was closing the door, he couldn't help but think of what he would've done if he had returned any later. Would he have come home to find Evey dead in his room? He shuddered at the thought of it. He wasn't mad at her for destroying his mirror, but he would have been furious if _it_ had ended her life.

He smiled bitterly as the door clicked shut. It had been one of his favorite things in the gallery. Until Evey came along. He would've smashed his own mirror a thousand times, as long as he could keep Evey with him. He knew this revelation was bittersweet, she hated it here. He knew she would try and escape again. He knew he wouldn't let her go.

She was his favorite thing in the Gallery now, and nothing could take her away from him.

Not for a year, at least.


End file.
